


Storms

by IceDevil



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I, Dark Souls III
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Injury, But dont think it wont hurt to get there, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon, This is my Dark Souls and I get to make the Gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26809177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceDevil/pseuds/IceDevil
Summary: Ornstein’s head was spinning, he tried to look and assess the damage but any sort of movement at the moment resulted in agonizing pain. His head was throbbing and every breath hurt. He tried to shift his hand but was only met with more pain and the wetness of blood. It had pooled around him as crimson as his hair, and left a coppery taste in his mouth. Somewhere along the way he had acquired a gash on his face too. He shivered, the cold rain seeping into his clothes replacing the warmth of fresh blood.This was it.
Relationships: Artorias the Abysswalker/Lord's Blade Ciaran, Lord Gwyn's Firstborn/Dragon Slayer Ornstein, The Nameless King/Dragon Slayer Ornstein
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is my first fic so go easy on me, okay. There's not nearly enough nkstein content for my liking so I figured it was about time I contribute for myself rather than lurk. I have big plans for this story and I'm really excited to finally be writing again for the first time in several years (outside of academic papers and stuff). The whole thing is written and edited by myself very late at night so please pardon the inevitable errors.
> 
> Also, this fic has art made by me as well,  
> You can find it @IceDevilArt on Instagram!
> 
> Enjoy!

Spring was always beautiful in Anor Londo, not too warm, not too cold, but a little wet for Ornstein’s tastes. His heavy, gilded boots sank into the soft ground with each step through the woods, splattering his greaves with mud. He cursed himself for offering to take this patrol when he could have sent a patrol of silver knights just as easy. It was a simple mission to take out a group of bandit thugs that had been reportedly terrorizing citizens on the outskirts of the city. Ornstein figured that it would be a pleasant break from the never-ending paperwork that seemed to magically pile up on his desk, at least it was supposed to be.

Ornstein went to take another step only to find his boot stuck in the mud, how in the name of the gods did Artorias spend so much time out here? He forced the blunt end of his spear in the ground and jerked his foot free from the offending mud with an angry grunt. Curse these woods, curse that paperwork he was ignoring, and curse… himself for forgetting the damn meeting with Prince Gwynsen. He was definitely going to be late if he didn't find these bandits soon. To make matters worse, he would have to show up coated in mud and grime as he probably would have time to change let alone clean his armor. It was likely that Gwynsen wouldn't care. They had seen each other in far worse shape after years of dragon slaying together after all, but damn it, Ornstein cared. Looking good was part of his job even if Gwynsen always insisted that he looked good. Ornstein sighed, cursing his own feelings, he liked the Prince far too much for his own good.

He continued his trek through the wood, the brilliant sunshine eventually disappearing, making way for thick, grey clouds. Just his luck, now he would be muddy and wet... although maybe the rain would wash some of the grime off. Ornstein shook his head, wishful thinking, it would just make more accursed mud for him to step in.

The last time he returned to the palace wet after an unfortunate patrol, Ciaran told him he looked like a drowned cat. She laughed at him before promptly calling in Artorias, who also laughed at him. Upon looking in the mirror in his quarters, he found his long, red plume plastered around all sides of his helmet and over the decorative lion’s snout like some kind of mustache. He may just die of embarrassment if he turned up to the meeting like that, if not, Gwynsen’s teasing would surely kill him.

He had to find this camp soon; the rain was fast approaching as was his meeting. There was no sign of life to be seen anywhere outside the usual noises of the forest and whatever bird was nearby making that incredibly loud chirping noise. Now that he thought about it, the chirping was really getting on his nerves. It was certainly not making his search any easier, those damn bandits had to be around here somewhere. 

The obnoxious chirping seemed to get closer and closer as Ornstein continued forward. He just had to focus on his task, and it would go away. He checked for tracks on the muddy ground though the recent rain would make it difficult to find anything. He still found nothing and was starting to think he should turn back when he tripped over something.  
Ornstein landed, chest and hands colliding with the muddy ground which luckily wasn't too deep. That was it; he was done. Ornstein was leaving. Now. He picked himself up off the ground with as much grace as he could muster though it felt meaningless thanks to the layer of mud that now coated his breastplate and gauntlets. He grabbed his unintentionally discarded spear, now also coated in mud, with the express intent of smiting the offending tree root or stone responsible for his fall. He whipped around, spear ready to release his pent-up frustration on an unsuspecting rock, however his glare was met by a strange creature that let out a familiar chirp.

Ornstein almost struck down the creature where it stood for daring to get in his way, however its odd appearance caused him to hesitate. It was low on the ground and mostly obscured by the thick underbrush it was hiding in. The creature looked somewhat like a lizard but was also feathered like a bird. It was too well hidden for Ornstein to tell what it was, but it looked at him with intelligence, like it was observing him as well. He came to the realization that this was the “bird” that was following him, now it was here, looking at him expectantly. He was not Artorias who insisted upon befriending all manner of woodland animals, he would not give in to its asinine demands. The creature let out an inquisitive chirp, trying to get closer but darting into the underbrush as Ornstein attempted to shoo the creature away, swiping the end of his spear at it gently. Satisfied that the offending creature was gone, he departed. It wouldn't be too hard to follow his own tracks back to Anor Londo, and with luck he would have time to change.

It was too much to ask for the little annoyance to stop following him, occasionally he saw its beak peak out from the rustling bushes. It was clear the creature was still following him much to his disdain. Once again, it poked its head out from the bushes, almost toppling him for a second time.

“Fine, what do you want,” he said with a growl, stopping to stare down at the animal.

It merely gave another annoying chirp in response, which told Ornstein next to nothing, though he had an idea. It was not an idea that he liked very much but perhaps it would work, he reached in his pack and pulled out some food. It was dried meat he kept on him in case of emergency, it was always good to be prepared though he had not foreseen using it like this.

Ornstein tossed a few strips of the meat towards the creature which took to it with glee. It was almost cute how happy it seemed to be given food, tearing into the meat enthusiasm. Perhaps the poor thing had simply been starving. Ornstein shook his head and left the creature to eat. He probably shouldn't have fed it, the last thing he needed was a repeat of Sif. 

The scent of burning broke through Ornstein’s thoughts, drawing him away from the occupied creature. It was an odd occurrence since he had not smelled anything on the way here, whatever happened had to be recent. Against his better judgement, the knight followed the scent, perhaps it would lead to his objective after all. Ornstein moved through the woods, faster despite the mud; as he moved the smell was joined by thick, black smoke billowing through the towering trees.

Soon, Ornstein was met with a small clearing, not far from Anor Londo, hidden well enough in the dense wood that it would be easy to miss. The camp looked abandoned with tents half collapsed and no sign of life. As the knight moved closer he found rotting food and even abandoned clothes strewn about. This seemed to be the bandit camp he was looking for, and they definitely left in a hurry. As he investigated, he became aware of the flicker bright light of fire just beyond the camp. With the mystery of the missing camp solved and what looked like a fire on his hands, Ornstein figured it was about time he returned and reported. There wasn't much he could do about the fire but let the now falling rain put it out, though he wondered idly what caused it as he turned around to follow his path back to the city.

Ornstein had barely taken one step before he regretted ever wondering what could cause such a blaze. The telltale beat of massive, leathery wings could be heard from the stormy sky above. He could recognize that sound anywhere and it always heralded an impending battle. The sound grew thunderous as a large shadow passed overhead. It was too late, the dragon had already spotted him.

Ornstein took off running for the forest, kicking himself for not realizing sooner. He didn't think about what caused the bandits to take off in such a hurry or what could cause such a large fire in such a short amount of time. And he had the nerve to call himself Dragonslayer, he certainly wasn't living up to that right now.

Reaching his original path, Ornstein took a sharp turn away from Anor Londo. The dragon was way too close to the city, if he led it back it would certainly cause mass destruction before the archers or dragonslayers could be assembled. He thought about standing his ground but taking on a full grown drake alone was suicide, even for him, though it seemed he may have no choice. He certainly couldn’t risk a battle so close to the city, he would have to lead it away and either fight or lose it in the woods. 

Outrunning a flying creature on foot was easier said than done. Ornstein dodged and weaved through the trees, thankfully thick enough to prevent the dragon from swooping down or landing. He could do this, the Dragonslayer thought as he dodged, feeling the warmth of dragon fire through his armor. He needed to keep going. 

Ornstein was scarcely aware of his feet sticking in the mud, and branches whipping by him, ricocheting off his armor. He could only hear the beat of wings above him and see the dark shadow below him. He watched that shadow like a hawk, any change could help him predict another breath of fire. Ornstein dodged again. A razor sharp talon missed him by inches. He kept running. He could do this.

The knight felt fatigue creeping into his limbs as he pressed forward. He couldn't afford to tire now, just a little farther. The lives of the people depended on this. His life depended on this. The dragon let out a screech and Ornstein ran a little faster, denying the fear that crept into his mind.

His lungs were screaming and his side ached as he reached another clearing, the drake not far behind. Ornstein took a minute to catch his breath and regroup. His heart dropped, the clearing, rather than lead back to the woods dropped off to a sheer cliff face. There was nowhere else to run, he had no choice but to stand and fight.

The dragon came crashing down in front of the Dragonslayer, leaving deep scars in the marshy ground behind it. It was a hulking grey creature with a face twisted into an angry snarl. The Dragonslayer drew his spear and readied his lightning miracles, staring down the monstrosity in front of him with an equally angry snarl etched permanently into his lion helm. It was do or die.

The Dragonslayer regarded his opponent for a second that seemed to stretch an eternity, waiting for the dragon to strike. A quick claw came flying towards him, but he was ready, years of dragon hunting coloring his practiced movements. A swift step to the side then a roll under another quick claw. 

He was seeking an opening and found one. The drake launched itself at the golden knight, looking to crush him under his claws but he was too fast. Leaping backwards, he was just out of reach. The dragon’s deadly talons instead collided with the soft ground, getting stuck just long enough for the Ornstein to dart in and strike.

The dragon gave an angry screech as Ornstein’s spear pierced its hide with a flash of light. The dragon retaliated, swiping its tail towards him, almost too fast to dodge. Ornstein dove to the side just soon enough to escape injury before quickly dashing in again for another strike that connected with the beast’s flank. This time, the dragon staggered backwards, howling in pain. The Dragonslayer derived some satisfaction from his successful hit. Although it had been long since he faced a dragon alone, he could still hold his own against such a great beast.

Seeing a moment of opportunity in the dragon’s pain, Ornstein took to the offensive. He slowly closed in on the dragon, backing it closer and closer to the tree line with threatening jabs from his spear. He rolled to the side, dodging another breath of fire before going in for another blow, aiming to kill. His spear found its mark on the dragon’s head, carving a gnarly gash over its cheek.

In pure anger. The dragon lashed out once again, and this time, the Dragonslayer’s luck ran out. Before Ornstein could dodge, the dragon’s claws collided with his left side tearing right through his breastplate and chainmail like it was made of paper. Searing pain bloomed across his side as Ornstein instinctually grasped at the wound, feeling the warm wetness of blood seep through his gauntlet. He stumbled backwards, once again avoiding another swipe of the beast’s claws and landing unsteadily on the soft ground.

The beast kept pressing forward with aggressive swipes. It was becoming more and more painful for Ornstein to keep dodging, every movement sending a new wave of pain coursing through his body. He would have to end this soon, he thought as he readied himself for one last strike.

With a crushing force, the dragon bore down with both its claws just shy of the Dragonslayer giving him the opportunity he needed. He lunged forward with as much force as he could muster, his spear colliding with the dragon’s neck leaving behind a deep wound, however it was not enough, the dragon still stood. Ornstein didn't know if he could bear the pain of movement for much longer.

The beast let out an agonized screech. Clearly knowing it was bested, it thankfully prepared to take off, spreading its massive wings. Ornstein, not willing to let such a dangerous beast survive and potentially raze the city, dove in for one last blow, one he would regret. The creature’s huge mass collided with the Dragonslayer sending him careening towards the cliff edge.

With a gust of air, the beast was gone and Ornstein was left clutching the edge of the cliff with one clawed hand, his helmet knocked clean off his head. He could feel dread settle in the pit of his stomach as it clattered to the ground a few seconds later, the metallic noise echoing through the valley. His other hand dangled uselessly by his side; his armored hand still tightly clenched around his spear, a lifeline that would be useless here. His feet skated uselessly along the rain slick face of the cliff, desperately looking for a foothold that they would not find. Ornstein could feel panic rising in his throat as he felt his hand start to slip.

This was it; this is how it would end. The Great Dragonslayer, killed by a fucking cliff. It was a humiliating thought, one that made Ornstein fight a little harder. He tried in vain to lift the arm still holding his spear but the effort only made him cry out in pain, the gashes on his side making it difficult to move. He tried lifting himself but his hand only slipped farther on the slick ground, this really was it. He closed his eyes and waited, feeling his fingers slip farther off the edge, knowing there was nothing he could do. He could feel tears starting to well in his eyes only making him feel worse. He would die here.

Ornstein’s hand slipped. For a split second, time seemed to halt around him as he was caught in a freefall. For a moment, he was at peace; the sensation of weightlessness was almost pleasant compared to the searing pain in his side. He could close his eyes and it would be over. He briefly wondered what death would feel like.

With a sickening crunch, the knight landed and found his answer. It would be painful and slow.

Ornstein’s head was spinning, he tried to look and assess the damage but any sort of movement at the moment resulted in agonizing pain. His head was throbbing and every breath hurt. He tried to shift his hand but was only met with more pain and the wetness of blood. It had pooled around him as crimson as his hair, and left a coppery taste in his mouth. Somewhere along the way he had acquired a gash on his face too. He shivered, the cold rain seeping into his clothes replacing the warmth of fresh blood.

Ornstein was dimly aware he was going to bleed out, even if he didn’t, the cold would kill him long before anyone could discover him. He couldn't move, he was helpless. He was afraid. Really, truly afraid for the first time in many years. His vision was starting to fade, but he resisted it, still clinging on to life. 

Ornstein had to get back, who else would lead the Silver Knights? Who would be there to force Artorias to do his paperwork, to have late night chats in the kitchen with Ciaran, or to meditate with Gough? He had to make sure his fellow knights, his friends, would be alright without him. And the Prince. Would he be disappointed that Ornstein failed? Would he mourn for him? Would he be alright without him?

Ornstein thought of Gywnsen’s radiant smile, how he was always encouraging and kind, too kind for a god of war. Ornstein couldn't think of a time when his Lord had ever doubted him. He would never allow these thoughts, ordinarily, but the world was rapidly fading around him. It afforded him a refuge from the pain, a modicum of peace. 

He remembered how the Prince’s arms felt around him, strong and warm. How he longed to feel that warmth once more, even if just for a moment. He hoped so hard that it almost felt real. He could almost feel a gentle hand brushing his hair from his face and a soothing voice telling him that he would be alright.

Ornstein’s world faded to nothingness around him as death crept closer, everything would be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sat on his balcony, chin resting in his hand, the prince wondered if he would ever be able to live life as he chose. Lost in thought, he almost didn't notice the now approaching rain. Right now though, he did not care all that much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, this fic has art. It can be found @IceDevilArt in Instagram. Enjoy!

The morning light shone through Prince Gwynsen’s windows, bathing the room in blinding tones of gold. Unfortunately, it was not the sun that awoke the Prince that morning. A soft knock at the door slowly shook Gwynsen from his dreams. He shifted in his large bed, opening his eyes to the blinding brightness of the midmorning sun. What time was it, he asked himself as he tried to get his tired muscles to cooperate. The rhythmic knocking at the door repeated itself once again, dispelling any hope the prince had of rolling over and going back to sleep.

Gwynsen groaned, sitting up and throwing his too-warm blanket to the side. He was certainly regretting staying up so late last night. 

“I'll be there in a moment,” he called towards whoever was knocking on his door. 

It was probably a servant with his breakfast. The thought encouraged him to get up just a little faster as he was pretty hungry. Though, that also meant he had missed having breakfast with the Knights of Gwyn, much to his dismay. It was not often he had the chance to spend time with his brothers in arms, and his friends.

Gwynsen’s feet hit the hardwood floor, still cool from the night, as he stood and began moving towards the door. He stopped in his tracks when he passed by his ornate, golden mirror mounted above his fireplace. His hair was absolutely atrocious. Although he was used to it’s desire to defy gravity, it was also tangled in horrible knots. He ran his fingers through his unruly locks in a vain attempt to tame them before tossing on a robe and hurrying to the door. No need to scar the servants with his current state of undress.

The door opened to reveal a young servant girl holding a full plate of breakfast food. She was young and looked like one of his sister’s handmaidens, not the usual woman who brought him breakfast. She looked almost startled to see him for a moment before suddenly remembering her duty.

“My lord,” she said, bowing her head in a polite nod before offering him the tray, “I've brought your meal.”

“Thank you,” he replied before asking, “Would you mind telling me what the time is?”

“Ten O’clock, my Lord,” the girl stammered out, still awkwardly holding the tray out.

Yep, he definitely overslept. He was lucky his father wasn't here or he would never hear the end of it. Something, something, you're the heir to the throne, something, this behavior is unbecoming of a prince. The usual scolding he’d been enduring for years now for every little mistake he made.

He thanked the girl, taking the plate of food from her, before closing the door and heading towards his desk. He was already up far too late, he could spare a few more minutes to eat and relax before going about his duties. The Prince placed his food on the table before sparing a moment to open the doors to his balcony and draw back his curtains, it looked like a beautiful day, after all. The doors swung open and Gwynsen breathed in the fresh morning air, taking a moment to admire the bloom of flowers in the courtyard below him. It was shaping up to be a good day, even if he did oversleep. 

If his father was here, he’d probably be somewhere getting yelled at right now rather than enjoying a nice spring day. Unlike his father, Gwynsen didn't feel the need to be up at the crack of dawn, breathing down the necks of the knights and palace staff alike. They were capable people and Gwynsen trusted them to do their jobs, he noticed they were far more comfortable without the constant supervision, anyway. He never understood his father’s insatiable need for control. 

That didn't matter now, his father was in Izalith for the next few weeks and he was in charge for now. He didn't have to obey any of his father’s enforced restrictions or fear his watchful eyes, and neither did anyone else. Yes, today would be a very good day.

He sat down at his desk, setting aside the book that had been part of the reason he was up so late. It was a fascinating tactics book and was far more interesting than most. It was filled with stories of battles and heroes, not just the usual boring theories and explanations of the books he was forced to read long ago during training. Though he was not much of an avid reader, Ornstein had recommended it to him, and his first knight’s recommendations were always good. Perhaps he would read another chapter while he ate.

Gwynsen opened the book to where he left off, an old tale about how a single knight used his wits and sheer willpower to overcome a powerful monster, capable of razing towns. For a while, the Prince was happy to get lost in a good story and enjoy his food. The kitchen had done an especially good job with the pastries today.

The sun had almost reached its peak in the sky when Gwynsen finally decided it was time to leave his quarters and attend to his duties. Anor Londo had been quiet for some time now with the Dragon War dying off slowly over the years as the last of the dragons fled to the far corners of Lordran. Well, except for one small exception that he knew of, but that was his secret to keep. With no active war to be waged, Gwynsen was happy. There was no need to live in constant vigilance or worry about losing his men with each battle, it was nice. The thought seemed ironic to him, as many regarded him as a god of war. He was more than that and it was unfortunate that many didn't see that, even his own father. 

The prince shook his head as he went to don his armor. In his head, he went through a mental checklist of things that needed to be done, he had a meeting with Ornstein to discuss Silver Knight training, then he was supposed to have tea with Gwynevere and Gwyndolin, then some training with Ornstein and the Silver Knights,and dinner. Nothing too bad today, he would get to spend plenty of time with his first knight and maybe his scaly friend would stop by and help keep him up again tonight.

The Prince finished changing, strapping his golden bracers around his wrists before heading towards the door, leaving his weapon behind. He had some time to wander around before he was to meet Ornstein in the war room for their meeting so he figured he would check on the morning training session. He headed out into the halls of the palace passing by patrolling knights and busy servants on his way towards the Knight’s wing.

He took his time stopping to wave at Gwynevere in the medical wing, busy aiding the healers with her miracles. Once he reached the barracks he noticed the noise coming from the training yards, it sounded like the knights were practicing dueling today, if the sound of clashing weapons was anything to go by. It seemed like Ornstein’s morning practice was in full swing.

The yard was filled with the dissonant metallic sounds that only amplified in volume as Gwynsen pushed through the doors. Filling the yard were many pairs of knights, all engaged in duels with one another , it looked like they were practicing one on one combat today just as the Prince had suspected. Standing on a porch, observing the knights was not Ornstein but Artorias, who appeared to be engaged in giving instructions to a pair of the knights. Of course, the wolf knight was also accompanied by Sif, who sat dutifully at his feet, napping in the sunlight.

Spotting him, Artorias gave an enthusiastic wave at him before dismissing the knights he was instructing. By that time, Gwynsen had crossed the large yard to meet him, grateful that the training knights no longer seemed nervous in his presence and continued to duel as usual.

“Ah, Prince Gwynsen, looking for Sir Ornstein I presume,” the wolf knight greeted with a smile, taking a moment to pull his signature cowl down.

“I… Yes, we have a meeting later today. I expected he would be training the knights as usual,” the prince responded. 

Ornstein usually took it upon himself to train the Silver Knights himself, it was rare to see a training session without him. Gwynsen wondered what had kept the knight from his usual duties today. A tinge of worry crossed his mind, was he injured, sick? The apprehension must have shown on his face.

“No need to worry my Lord, our heroic dragonslayer is only out on patrol today. Supposedly taking care of some bandits just outside the city, he said he needed some time alone. He should be back soon,” Artorias assured him, his cheerful attitude easing some of the Prince’s worries.

“Of course, I have full faith that Ornstein can handle any threat he comes across,” Gwynsen replied though he was still slightly concerned that Ornstein had elected to go on his own. “I won't keep you any longer, I’ve spotted a few knights in need of your expert guidance,” he continued before turning back towards the exit with a nod of farewell.

“Oh, will you be joining us for dinner again tonight, my Lord?” Artorias called after him.

“If all is well, then I should see you there,” he called back with a friendly wave.

Artorias bade him goodbye as the Prince headed back through the training yard towards the exit. He still had some time before the meeting, perhaps he should wait at the gate for Ornstein’s return. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it instead heading back towards his quarters. He shouldn't let his… affections for his first knight guide his actions. The prince knew all too well that his feelings were unacceptable. Even if his dreams did come true and Ornstein did return his feelings, he would never be able to give the knight what he truly deserved.

The walk back to his quarters was not long, especially with the thoughts that occupied his mind. He shut his door, sighing in relief. He was no stranger to this train of thought, having pondered his feelings many times since they first developed quite some time ago. Wandering out to his balcony, the prince felt that all too common sense of longing sink through his mind, always accompanied by a sense of melancholy. His father would one day bring back some princess from a powerful kingdom and marry him off to, he would be expected to have children and rule the land. His father would never let any other relationship persist, let alone one with another man. He could never let Ornstein risk his position or his father’s wrath just for his own foolish desires

Sat on his balcony, chin resting in his hand, the prince wondered if he would ever be able to live life as he chose. Lost in thought, he almost didn't notice the now approaching rain. Right now though, he did not care all that much.

His wishful thinking was, thankfully, interrupted by an all too familiar chirp. It looked like his small friend had decided to pay him an early visit today. Gliding gracefully out of the now darkening sky was a small, feathered, drake who landed on the railing of his balcony with a practiced ease. Upon landing, the young drake bounded towards him, brandishing something in his beak with great pride.

“What have we here,” Gwynsen said, warmth immediately creeping into his voice at the sight of his draconic companion. Into his open palm, the dragon placed a strip of dried meat before looking up at the prince and letting out a proud chirp as if to say “I brought you a gift, you're welcome.”

“What poor soul did you bother enough to get them to feed you?” Gwynsen asked with a grin, passing the strip of meat back towards the dragon. “You can have it back, you earned it fair and square.”

The storm drake only offered another contented chirp in response before taking the offered snack back into his beak. The prince smiled once again, gently running his finger tips over the dragon’s crown of soft feathers as he gnawed away at his food. The drake seemed to like the gesture, butting his head into Gwynsen’s hand and letting out another happy chirp. He was grateful for the momentary distraction but it really was time for his meeting.

“I know you like visiting, but I have a meeting to attend,” he apologised. 

The drake seemed to huff in annoyance before gladly accepting one last pet from Gwynsen, who also offered him a scrap of egg from his now abandoned breakfast tray. One last apology for cutting their time short. The young drake gave one last chirp before taking off into the stormy sky, slowly fading from the prince’s view. 

Gathering all the papers he would need, Gwynsen set off for the war room feeling invigorated and looking forward to spending time with his closest friend. He set a brisk pace towards his destination not desiring to be too late. It was likely that Ornstein would be there before him as the knight had a habit of being early. Before he knew it, he was pushing his way through the large double doors of the war room only to be met with an empty room. It was an unusual sight to say the least as Ornstein hated being late. However, it was not completely unexpected considering what Artorias told him. Ornstein likely wanted to change after his patrol or got caught in the rain slowing his travel. He would be here in a few moments grumbling about the bad weather and the mud stuck in his armor.

Gwynsen resolved to go over the material he prepared while he waited. He reviewed his notes, mostly training plans for the Silver Knights and some recommendations for promotions as well. He got through his whole stack of notes once, even taking the time to revise some areas with no sign of Ornstein. He tried not to panic too much, going over his notes once again, then again, and again.

By the fourth pass, Gwynsen was barely even comprehending the words on the page in front of him. It was unlike the Knight Commander to be so late, nearly an hour at that point. The Prince felt justified in seeking Ornstein out. Leaving his papers forgotten on the war table, he set out towards the knight’s quarters.

Before long, Gwynsen had made it to his destination. He stood before the large wooden door, similar to his own, and took a deep breath before knocking. The anticipation gnawed away at him more and more with every second the door remained unanswered. He knocked again, anxiety still brewing within him, only to be met with more silence. No calls or faint footsteps from within, just suffocating silence. Where could he be? Should he check with the healers perhaps? Ornstein would have found some way to let him know if he couldn't attend, he was sure of it.

“Looking for someone?” came a quiet voice, right beside Gwynsen, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.

“Ah, Ciaran, you startled me.” he responded in relief looking down at the small woman, heart still pounding. He hadn't realized how tense he had become during his search.

“That means I’m doing my job,” said the masked assassin with a slight tilt of her head, shuffling some paper around in her hands.

“Have you, by chance, seen Ornstein today? He’s late to our meeting and I'm a bit worried,” replied the prince.

“I'm afraid not since he left, as a matter of fact I was looking for him too, though I don't think he's returned from patrol yet. I have some intel that is of interest to him but you may want to take a look as well,” she said, passing him a piece of parchment from the stack in her hands.

It was a report from one of the Lord’s Blades detailing rumors of a nearby beast. It included statements overhard from several townsfolk of some monster lurking outside the city, also detailing accounts of mysterious fires and strange noises heard outside the city walls.

“I would usually dismiss rumors like this as false had one of my Blades not seen some rising smoke for herself. Most of the time people are smart enough that this kind of stuff never catches on, but everyone, even the palace staff, seem genuinely spooked about this one. It may be worth passing on to some knights for investigation.” she said with a shrug.

“I’ll… I'll look into this soon, I… I have to go,” and with a hasty wave as his concerns for Ornstein only increased. He took off for his quarters, his mind reeling, leaving a confused Ciaran in his wake. He had a bad feeling, a really bad feeling. The report Ciaran gave to him was starting to paint a picture in his mind of all the things that could possibly go wrong, something told him he would need his swordspear for this, he should have taken it with him this morning. 

The door to Gwynsen’s quarters slammed open with a loud bang as he rushed in, quickly spotting his weapon leaned up against his desk. Without breaking his stride, he snatched the spear from its resting place before realizing that he had a visitor. The storm drake was, once again, perched on his balcony in the rain. The prince pushed through the doors of his balcony with the full intent of sending his scaly companion away before realizing he had a shiny object clutched in his beak.

He strode toward the dragon who, upon spotting him, let out a muffled chirp before jumping on to his arm and climbing up to perch on his shoulder. This behavior was odd, even for the young dragon. When reaching towards the perched drake to shoo him off his shoulder, the feathered creature shoved the small shiny object he was carrying into Gwynsen’s hand with an urgent sounding squawk.

The small piece of golden metal was cold and jagged in his hand; it looked like it had been broken off of something larger. It was mostly flat with one face that appeared to have remnants of raised decoration on it. Under closer inspection, both faces appeared to be neatly polished though it bore traces of blood in its grooves. He didn't know why he was looking so closely at this useless scrap of metal, who knew where his companion had found it. He had more pressing matters to attend to, matters that may be life or death. The thought sent a cold spike of fear through him.

The dragon let out an annoyed chirp as the prince strode back into his quarters, tossing the metal chunk on his desk as he headed towards the door, nearly forgetting about the dragon on his shoulder as thoughts of Ornstein dominated his thoughts. At this action, his friend let out another annoyed chirp before leaping towards his desk and returning the metal chunk to his hand, seemingly insisting upon its importance and dutifully climbing back to the Prince’s shoulder.

“Listen, you know you can just ride me through the palace like I'm your personal horse. I promise I'll look at what you've brought me once I find Ornstein,” he said, placing the drake back down on his desk along with the metal.

He only received a huff of frustration in response as the drake picked up the piece of metal and once again shoved it into the Prince’s hand with enough force that it almost hurt. What could possibly be so important about this tiny piece of metal? He turned it over again a few times in his hands once again just to please the drake who watched expectantly as if he was waiting for something. Then it clicked, something about the way the dim light reflected off the metal or the way it was polished as if the former owner cared deeply about it. He recognized it now.

It was a fragment of Ornstein’s armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, this chapter was supposed to be way longer but I cut it in half for the sake of expediency. I'll probably have Chapter 3 up pretty soon, until then, enjoy the cliffhanger!
> 
> Also, I absolutely appreciate all the comments and Kudos, I didn't think this would get any traffic so Its really encouraging to see all the positive feedback! Thank you all so much!
> 
> Come say hi:  
> @IceDevilArt on Instagram


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mist eventually parted, giving way to sight that brought Gwynsen a strange sense of relief amidst the feeling of his world crashing down around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked for answers to the cliffhanger, I deliver.
> 
> Enjoy the Gay.

At first, Gwynsen was confused. How? How had the young dragon gotten his claws on this? Where did he find it? But slowly, the Prince’s confusion turned to dawning horror as the pieces fell into place. The broken armor, the blood.

“You know where he is, don't you,” he said in an even, quiet tone to the small dragon, receiving an affirming but solemn sounding chirp in response.

His grip tightened around the swordspear tight enough for his knuckles to go white. He was right, something had happened. He should have come looking sooner. Gwynsen could feel his panic slowly blooming into rage. Whoever or whatever had caused this would pay. Sparing one last glance at the small piece of metal, he set it down on his desk. Right now, it was all he had left of Ornstein. The chilling thought accompanied him as he blew out of the room and towards the palace gates. Nothing would get in his way.

As the Prince stormed through the halls of the palace, knights and servants alike jumped out of his path. No one dared ask where he was going or what he was doing. 

Before long, he was turning the corner out into the main courtyard and running straight over Ciaran. The small woman toppled backwards before being caught by an alarmed Artorias, who saved her from a painful collision with the ground. He wasn't quite expecting to see her there but he really didn't have time to chat right now.

“I’m sorry Ciaran, I really am, but I have to go,” he said, before either could react.

“It better be important enough to run me over for, where are you even going so fast?” she replied as Gwynsen began to back away, drifting towards the gates.

“It is, I'll explain later,” he called with a wave as he continued moving.

He could vaguely hear Artorias ask Ciaran something in the background before the pair moved in the front gate and out of the now falling rain. He noted in the back of his mind that Ciaran wasn't wearing her mask. Strange.

The rain seemed to pick up as he passed through the palace gates and headed towards the nearest exit to the forest which, thankfully, wasn't too far. He didn’t spare a single glance at the knights on the ramparts that stared at his departure or the servants and workers who looked on in awe, he had a mission.

The minute he set foot on the soft forest floor outside of the city, the young drake came sailing out of the dark sky like the rain and biting wind had no effect on him. He landed on a nearby branch with ease, eyeing the Prince expectantly.

“Okay, which way are we going,” he asked the feathered creature.

The storm drake nodded his head, gesturing towards one of the many overgrown and barely visible paths that lead into the wilds. Gwynsen started moving, still keeping his quick pace despite the rough and muddy terrain of the forest, uncaring of the mud that began to build up on his armor or clung to his spear. As he passed by the drake, he offered an arm which was gladly taken.

That is how they continued, the Prince, marching, as fast as he could towards his destination guided by his draconic companion. Occasionally, the creature would offer another chirp and nod of his head, pointing Gwynsen in the right direction or redirecting him through the winding trails. The rain only increased, the light mist gradually growing into a steady drum of water hitting leaves. The broken mountains and distant view of Anor Londo fading into the mist leaving only cold forest around the pair.

Where were they? How long had they been running? Gwynsen was starting to panic again. He wondered if he would ever find Ornstein and if so, how would he find him. A brief image flashed through his mind of his first knight, broken and bloody, his armor shattered around him. The thought felt like choking, his insides twisting in painful knots as he tried to banish it from his mind. Ornstein was just lost, he was fine. They would walk back in the rain together and he would laugh as Ornstein endlessly grumbled about the mud and his broken armor.

Another chirp rang out over the rain though it was not the noise that disturbed Gwynsen’s thoughts. The putrid stench of wet, charred, wood hit his nose, clearly drifting from a clearing in the dense trees that caught his eyes. He veered sharply towards the scent, the first sign of, well, anything that he had witnessed since leaving Anor Londo. 

As he passed through the tree line, he was met with a small and very soggy camp. It was left in clear disarray, and it was easy to see why. The woods on the other half of the camp were charred to a crisp, still smoking as the rain evaporated on the still hot embers.

It was fresh, just now dampened by the rain. This was not normal, Ornstein surely would have investigated, he thought, as a whole new set of terrifying scenarios began to fill his mind. Much to Gwynsen’s relief, his companion chirped once again leading him towards something on the ground, back towards where he entered. Gliding to the ground, the drake landed next to a set of footprints. They were smaller than his own and still relatively fresh, though they were dug quite deep into the ground as if whoever left them was moving as fast as they could.

“They're his, aren't they,” he asked, receiving a nod from the dragon in response.

Gwynsen took off into the woods again, the drake gliding to rest on his shoulder once again as they followed the footprints deeper into the woods. By now, the rain had begun to pick up once again, growing from a steady drum to a crescendo as sheets of water blew through the trees. Gwynsen knew he had to move fast before the rain washed his trail away. As he moved, now running as fast as he could, he noticed more burnt out forest, crossing paths with the trail. He had seen destruction like this countless times, the tell tale sign of a dragon, and a big one too. But how? The dragons left this area long, long ago. Long before he made his peace with them, before he had even fought in the war. Why now, why here, why Ornstein? The questions flew through his mind as he flew through the trees, towards another clearing in the distance.

He broke through the trees to see a outcrop, overlooking a cliff, torn by battle but with no combatants in sight. The footsteps seemed to disappear into the torn and burnt ground, covered by the tell tale grooves of clawed feet and blood. He was smart enough to know that a fight happened here, it seemed like Ornstein was chased all the way out here and forced to make his stand.

Gwynsen didn't know what to do, was Ornstein killed? Was there even anything left to find? His questions were answered by his companion gliding off his shoulder and towards the edge of the cliff where he landed. His heart dropped as the drake let out a familiar chirp, signaling the direction he should head, though this time, it was tinged with melancholy. He had a feeling he knew what was at the bottom. That choking sensation gripped him again, like his insides were twisting themselves in knots as he froze, consumed with dread. But no, he had to push forward, Ornstein could still be alive. He was alive, he had to be.

There must be a way down, the sheer cliff face had no holds in sight and the bottom was shrouded in mist. He briefly wondered if he could jump but the nauseous feeling he gained when he peered over the side told him that wasn't on the table. As his panicked mind quickly worked through solutions, his friend once again beckoned him. This time, they followed the edge of the cliff until it looked like Gwynsen could climb down. The rock was slick in the pouring rain but it was at least manageable.

One step at a time, he descended the cliff. It was difficult, what few footholds existed were small, barely strong enough to support his large frame. The wind howled as it threatened to blow him off the cliff and thunder rumbled in the distance. His companion, however, seemed unaffected by the violent storm, drifting, somewhat impatiently, downward with the Prince as he climbed.

Just a few more steps and he would be down. Just a few more… Gwynsen’s foot hit the last ledge on the cliff and he dropped the rest of the way. He was wasting time, his companion had already taken off in the direction of where he hoped he would find Ornstein. He did not spare a moment to think of how his muscles were beginning to ache or how cold he had become in the pouring rain, he just ran. His feet dug deep grooves in the mud with each stride that took him closer to his first knight. 

The mist eventually parted, giving way to sight that brought Gwynsen a strange sense of relief amidst the feeling of his world crashing down around him. That familiar cocktail of despair and panic gripped him again as he knelt down besides the broken body of the person he cared about so deeply. This shouldn't be happening. Ornstein was a proud knight who cut an imposing figure, now he lies here, nearly torn to shreds. It wasn't right.

He reached out a hand, gently brushing away a thread of crimson hair that plastered itself to Ornstein’s face in the rain. Letting his fingers trail to his temple, Gwynsen prayed that he would be able to feel a pulse. He concentrated, and waited, and there it was. He still had time.

“It's going to be alright, I'm here now,” Gwynsen said, a promise, spoken far too softly for a god of war, “I won't leave you.”

He placed a hand on the broken knight’ chest, clinging to the barely noticeable rise and fall that served as an indicator that he was not too late, that there was still hope. Gwynsen had to do something, he wouldn't let Ornstien die. The same determination that brought him here overcame him again. He took a deep breath and considered his options. He had no medical supplies to speak of nor did he know much about healing miracles but he would have to make do.

The first problem, however, was the rain. All the healing in the world wouldn't stop Ornstein from freezing to death in the raging tempest that surrounded them. He couldn't move Ornstein too far in this state but they had to at least make it to some kind of shelter. He must have been thinking out loud because a well timed chirp from a few meters away gave him an answer. The storm drake stood outside a shallow cave. It was more like an area sheltered by a rocky overhang but it would do. 

The rain kept pouring as he gently gathered the injured knight in his arms. He was careful not to move too fast for fear of disturbing any broken bones. He lifted the knight with great care as he rose from the ground, making his way slowly towards shelter. The overhang would shield them from the worst of the storm, Gwynsen found as he carefully lowered them both back to the ground, which was thankfully only damp. 

They couldn't wait any longer, Ornstein was still bleeding. The movement only seemed to aggravate his wounds causing the knight to slip ever closer to death. Gwynsen tried not to panic, he needed to heal him now, before it was too late.

Gwynsen tried to recall what his sister had taught him about healing. He began to recite the only miracle he could remember to the best of his abilities. Anchored more by his faith that Ornstein would live than in the actual words he spoke, golden light radiated around them for a brief moment before the world faded to grey again. 

He let out a sigh of relief as he noticed Ornstein’s wounds slowly closing up. The deep gashes on his side and on his face grew smaller and no longer oozed a steady stream of blood. Gywnsen’s ease was short-lived, they would still have to make it back to Anor Londo somehow. 

It was only now that Gwynsen realized how out of his depth he truly was. They were miles from safety with no easy way back. He had no way to contact home nor had he even told anyone where he was going. Ornstein was barely stable enough to be moved a few meters let alone all the way back. Perhaps he could send his storm drake with a message, he thought, casting a glance at his small friend who was curled up against Ornstein’s good side. The admittedly cute sight only brought Gwynsen back to reality. It was still freezing.

He sat there for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. He thought it best to remove Ornstein’s broken breastplate at the least. It seemed to be putting pressure on his likely broken ribcage. Gwynsen quickly replaced the missing article with his own scarf and cloak, Ornstein needed them more than he did. Gwynsen did his best to pull the knight closer to him, anything to keep him warm. They really needed a fire more than anything but that was unlikely given the rain.

“....Gwynsen?” came a voice from below him, barely more than a whisper.

The slight shift seemed to have awakened the injured knight, who turned his head as best he could to look up at Gwynsen. He tried his best to lift one shaking hand towards the Prince.

“Yes, I’m here,” he replied, taking Ornstein's reaching hand in his own and guiding it back to rest. “It's okay, don’t move, you'll hurt yourself.”

“...I’m sorry… failed,” he said, the pain in his voice making Gwynsen’s heart break all over again. “.... don’t… don’t leave.”

“I won’t, I promise I won’t,” Gwynsen replied, bringing his other hand to the knight’s cheek, “See? I'm not going anywhere,”

He wasn't sure if Ornstein had even heard him as his eyes once again slid shut as he fell to unconsciousness, though his fingers remained laced through Gwynsen’s own. Even though their conversation had been short, it was enough to reassure him that Ornstein was getting better. Once again, Gwynsen readied himself to cast another healing miracle. Reciting the words, he let the golden light surround them again, but this time it didn't fade.

The storm had passed and Gwynsen hadn't even noticed. The evening sun was beginning to shine from behind the dissipating cloud cover. This time, he could actually find relief, Ornstein seemed to have stabilized and they were finally drying. He would be able to move Ornstein safely within a few hours, once the slow healing of the miracles did their full job.

Gwynsen took a minute to look at his draconic friend, still curled up by Ornstein’s side, and remember all the times he had sat on his balcony and told the young dragon of his noble first knight. No wonder, he has sought him out. Gwynsen had promised the storm drake that he would introduce them one day but it looks like his curiosity got the best of him. 

“Thanks,” he said quietly, reaching out to stroke the sleeping drake’s crown of feathers. He got a soft chirp in response as the dragon shifted in his sleep. 

Gwynsen kept a vigilant watch over his companions as he waited. The hours slipped past quickly as he scanned the forest for any potential danger and reapplied the healing miracle any time Ornstein’s condition seemed to worsen. The knight’s hand still remained in Gwynsen’s own, though he continued to sleep.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon when Gwynsen felt comfortable enough to move Ornstein. His condition had improved about as much as it could and it would be far too dangerous to stay the night. Once again, he gathered Ornstein into his arms. He knew it would have been too much to ask for the knight to be well enough to walk, but Gwynsen worried when the movement did not wake him. Ornstein really needed to see a real healer.

Maybe he had waited too long. The walk back would be long and arduous and he would have to circle all the way around the cliffs to get back to an easy entrance to the city. Anor Londo’s famed defenses only made his task more difficult. At least he had a scout who was able to fly. With a deep breath, the Prince set off towards his kingdom.

Like he thought, the walk was slow. A constant back and forth balancing act dictated his movements and occupied his mind. He needed to be fast enough to get Ornstein the help he needed but not so fast that he injured the knight further. A few times on the trip, Ornstein stirred, not long enough for any coherent conversation, but enough to reassure the Prince.

The moon was high in the sky by the time Gwynsen passed through the palace gates for the second time this day. Relief washed over him as he quickly crossed through the courtyard. With one last chirp, his companion departed, knowing he was unable to enter the palace. Gwynsen was sure he would be back soon.

Gwynsen entered the entrance hall, quickly making a turn towards his destination. He was so dead set on getting to the healers that he completely overlooked Ciaran for a third time that day.

“Prince Gwynsen? What..” Came an uncertain voice from the other end of the darkened hall. 

“Ciaran!” he yelled, cutting her question off, “Wake Gwynevere at once, bring her to the healers, it's an emergency!” 

“What? Is everything…” she trailed off. Concern grew in her voice as she hurried closer, looking for answers. 

The minute she drew close enough to see, a look of alarm crossed the unmasked assassin’s face as she caught sight of the injured Dragonslayer. She locked eyes with the harried looking Prince and with a sharp, determined, nod, darted off towards the royal quarters without a single sound.

Gwynsen continued his path towards the healers, ignoring the persistent fatigue that threatened to topple him. When he reached the healer’s quarters, he quickly moved into the open room he could find, startling the young woman serving as the night watch who quickly followed behind him. He gently laid his first knight on the clean cot in the empty room before turning back to the young healer. 

“He needs help, now,” he said, perhaps a little bit more forceful than he intended.

The woman looked taken aback for a second before a look of determination crossed her face and she set to work.

“Have you woken the Princess,” she said, not even looking at him as she set to work.

“Yes..” he said, stepping closer to Ornstein, unable to leave the man he fought so hard to save.

“Then there's nothing more you can do, my lord,” she replied, still examining her new patient.

Gwynsen tried to argue, he needed to stay. Ornstein had asked him to.

“It is okay brother,” came a soft voice from the doorway. “We’ll take good care of him, you can come back as soon as we're done.”

His sister stood in the doorway, accompanied by two sleepy looking handmaids who quickly set to work, helping the fist woman. Gwynevere gave him a reassuring hug as she ushered him out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

In the hall, he was met by his youngest sibling Gwyndolin. They were not wearing their usual sun crown and instead looking at him with concern in their light eyes.

“Brother, what has happened?” they asked softly, as if they were afraid of the answer. “Is Sir Ornstein alright?”

“He’ll be alright, you know our sister will take very good care of him.” he replied, assuring his nervous sibling. “I’m sorry I missed tea.”

“It's alright, I'm just happy you both are okay,” they said. “I’ll wait with you until the healers are done.” 

Both siblings took a seat outside the room. Gwynsen felt bad for missing tea earlier since his sibling was rarely allowed their freedom. Their father always sheltered Gwyndolin far too much for his liking. His sibling received few chances to make friends, so he had introduced them to the Knights of Gwyn when their father wasn't looking. The group took a liking to them, instantly adopting the young heir as their own. He even arranged for them to be trained by Gough in the art of marksmanship much to their father’s disdain and Gwyndolin’s excitement.

Both siblings had begun to drift off when they were interrupted by the approach of Ciaran, who brought Artorias, Gough, and even Sif with her. They all seemed quite tired and were still dressed in their night clothes but were obviously looking for some answers and confirmation that Ornstein was alright.

“Explanation. Now.” said Ciaran sharply, barely concealing her concern with anger.

“Firstly, yes Ornstein is going to be alright, and... you know that report you gave me earlier, Ciaran? Well, he found the monster or rather dragon.” he explained, not even bothering to hide the weariness in his voice.

He watched as the knights’ tired faces morphed to one of shock. They would surely have more questions about their injured commander. 

“A dragon so close to the city spells trouble,” mused Gough with a concerned look, “I'm surprised none of my archers caught sight of it.”

“Did Ornstein take it down?” asked Artorias, still wide-eyed.

“I don't know, there was a lot of blood but no body.” The prince said with a deep sigh.

“I wouldn't be surprised if Ornstein sent that thing packing,” said Artorias, garnering the agreement of the rest of the knights.

“The real question is how a dragon got so close to the city,” Gwynsen said resting his head in his hands. These were logistics he was far too tired to think of now. He barely had enough energy to answer the questions he was being bombarded with. Thankfully, Gough, ever observant, seemed to notice.

“Don't worry, my lord,” said the giant. “We’ll take care of everything, I'll keep my archers on high alert. Anor Londo will remain safe.”

“I’ll send my Blades out to look for more information and keep watch, we need as many eyes and ears as we can get,” continued Ciaran.

“And I'll take over for Ornstein, and double down on patrols.” added Artorias. “So much for relaxing while Lord Gwyn is gone,”

Gwynsen only replied with a nod, still fighting his fatigue. 

“Why don't you come with us Gwyndolin, you look tired and your brother needs some rest,” said Gough gently to the tired looking heir. They were still leaned up against Gwynsen's shoulder fighting to stay awake along with Sif who had decided to curl up on the chair next to them.

The Dark Sun nodded, giving Gwynsen one last hug before standing to join the knights, who departed with a wave. As they travelled down the hall he watched as Artorias tried sling an arm around Ciaran, an almost comical sight considering she was barely over half his height. Ciaran seemed annoyed for a moment but accepted it. Gwynsen chuckled, he was thankful to have them around. And thankful that they knew him well enough to know that he refused to budge until he could see Ornstein. Once they were out of view, Gwynsen quickly succumbed to his fatigue.

In his restless dreams he saw images of Ornstein, bloody and broken once again. No matter how fast he ran or what he did he could never seem to reach his first knight. He jolted awake to the sight of Gwynevere, gasping for breath as if he had been running again.

“It’s okay brother,” she said softly, “Sir Ornstein is alright, he should be back on his feet in a week or less, knowing him. You did a good job healing him.”

Gwynsen could only nod in response, still trying to catch his breath. He was a little taken aback that Gwynevere thought he had done well.

“You can go in and see him now,” she said, stepping back as Gwynsen stood up and turned towards the door.

“But, you have to promise to get some real rest in a real bed,” she said, blocking the door with her arm and giving him a pointed look.

“Fine, I promise I'll go to bed,” he replied with a sigh, all he wanted now was to see Ornstein, to keep that promise he made.

Satisfied with his answer, Gwynevere opened the door, letting him in before departing assumedly for her own quarters. Gwynsen entered the room, dragging a chair with him. He was relieved to see Ornstein looking better, he was no longer so pale and his wounds were bandaged. He appeared to be resting soundly now as well, his face no longer contorted in pain.

Gwynsen pulled his chair next to the bed, taking up the vigil he had kept all day. He knew he should probably get some rest as his sister had suggested and take a bath too, but this was more important. He considered whether he should for a moment, before lacing his fingers through Ornstein’s once more. He had a promise to keep after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Unfortunately I don't have any art for this chapter since its technically the second half of chapter 2 and I've been a bit burnt out recently with classes and stuff, but I'm back on track now with more art coming soon!
> 
> Come say Hi @IceDevilArt on insta for art and updates!
> 
> Also thanks to all who comment and kudos, you guys are the real gs who keep me sane while I'm writing this stuff 1am.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I'll be working on both the art and writing for chapter 2 soon! 
> 
> If you ever want to chat Dark Souls or nkstein you can find me on Insta @IceDevilArt I also have a discord, if any of you are interested in chatting let me know!


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